Island of the dragons
by RiderArya103
Summary: Sequel to Inheritance. Eragon is training the new Riders on an island, far away from Alagaësia. But what will he do when things start happening, both on his island and in Alagaësia? - Currently on hiatus.
1. A world without end

OK, here goes the first chapter. I hope you like it just as much as I do ...

Anyway, please review! Also, I'm writing in a kind of ... strange way.

A dash (-) = someone speaking with thoughts. (The reason for me not using italics instead is that I'm having kind of trouble with my computer for the moment. I'm working on it!)

Quotes (" ") = someone speaking aloud.

Well, I think that's all you need to know for the moment. So here it comes!

Chapter 1: A world without end

The rumbling, sighing sound of the waves, slowly making their way backwards and forwards, travelled easily up through the still air to the cliff on which Eragon was standing. In front of him was only the ocean, glittering in the last of the evening light. Behind and around him were high mountains, here and there deeply cut by valleys or brooks. Below him lay the city which had, since a few years back, been his home. The city which had been built on his command. The city which he had built here instead of in Alagaësia only because of Angela's prophecy. The herbalist had told him that he would leave alagaësia and never come back, and so he had.

Eragon shook his head and tried to put Angela's prophecy out of his mind, because all it did was make him distressed and worried. Instead, he raised his eyes to watch the sun sink and vanish where the sky and the earth met. It was still a shock to him, even after fifty years on this island, to know that the world was not flat after all, but round - like a globe. If only Arya could see what he was seeing! If only she could know what he knew! But no, he thought to himself. Do not think of Arya!

Although it had gone fifty years now since Eragon had left Alagaësia, the thoughts of Angela's prophecy and of Arya still kept returning to him, troubling him and making him confused and distressed. They were two ways between which he'd had to choose, two possibilities that had seemed just as tempting. And although he'd chosen one of them, he kept wondering what would have happened if he'd chosen the other.

Before, when the task of surviving here in a desolate land, of building up a new city and raising the dragons had been so urgent, he hadn't had much time to think about anything else. But now, when the city was finished and the order was growing well, he'd got more and more time for himself, to think - and wonder.

Was Nasuada doing well as queen of the Empire? Who would be succeeding her? How were Arya and Orik doing? What had happened to Roran and the other villagers of Carvahall? He could go on for ever, and there would just appear even more questions to which he had no answer.

- Oh, please, Eragon! Stop thinking of that, or I'll lose all the joy flying gives me.

Grateful for the interruption, Eragon turned his mind towards Saphira. The blue dragon was gliding out over the sea, borne by a warm current of air. As their minds melted together again, her happiness to be out there over that vast, endless ocean overrode Eragon's gloomy thoughts.

- Well, I see what you mean, he said, laughing briefly at her accusing tone. Anyway, couldn't we fly together or something? As you see, I'm in desperate need of anything that can distract me from _those _thoughts!

- Of course we could, said Saphira. I'll be back in a while.

Through the connection that always existed between their minds, Eragon could feel her enthusiasm. They hadn't had many opportunities to fly together these last weeks. Or at least, none of them had suggested it.

A little later, Eragon was sitting on Saphira's back, staring down at the water they passed over, listening to the distant crashing of the waves coming from the beach. Closing his eyes, he let his mind flow into Saphira's body, so that he saw everything with her vision. As always, the details got slightly distorted, but Eragon was used to it by this time and hardly gave it a thought. Instead, he let the wonderful view of the sea and the island behind them, the sensation of the cool air rushing past them and the sounds of wind, dragon wings beating and waves wash away all his gloomy and miserable thoughts.

As one being only, Eragon and Saphira turned and soared up towards the swiftly darkening sky, uttering a loud roar of triumph and mere joy. Then, once they were level with the highest mountains of the island, they stopped, hovering in the air to watch a flock of birds rising up from one of the trees in the distance.

The trees, plants and animals living on this island differed from the ones back in Alagaësia in many ways, even though some of them were the same. But yet, there was something here that reminded Eragon so strongly of Du Weldenvarden, and of the Spine at the same time. The elves who had followed him were really happy about this, of course, but Eragon was once again reminded of Arya. And of the life he had been living before he found Saphira's egg.

The island was quite large and shaped like a triangle, with the point facing east and the base, where most of the forest was, turned in the direction from which they had come. Although they had struggled hard, neither Eragon, nor any of the other elves had managed to find a good name for it. For some reason, none of the names they tried felt quite right. So for the moment, they simply called the island Vroengard, because that was where the Riders had been living before Galbatorix became king of the Empire.

Eragon and Saphira wheeled round in the air, looking in every direction and seeing nothing but sea. This was something they'd done before, but the existence of so much water and so little land always amazed them just as much. This is really a world without end, Eragon thought. A world that we have to explore. Maybe there were other people somewhere out there? Maybe other dragons? And even Riders?

- If there are, maybe they'll join us and the order will grow faster, Saphira commented.

- Yes, said Eragon. But thee order is growing fast enough. You're just impatient. I've told you so before.

- Well, maybe I am, Saphira admitted. But if there really are other dragons somewhere out there, I want to talk to them. I want to learn more, Eragon, and so do you. Don't deny it!

- I'm not, he said. Why are we having this discussion anyway, when we both know what the other is going to say?

- Because I like discussing with someone, came the answer. And if you really do know everything I'm going to say, you wouldn't have asked that.

Eragon laughed and then dropped the matter. He knew Saphira had won.

This was a kind of game that Eragon and Saphira had developed over the years. One of them would mention something, after which the other tried to deny it or start a discussion about it, like Saphira had done. Eragon considered it to be quite good practice. Because he'd been present at the conferences of several kings and other rulers, and he knew that they spent a lot of their time arguing with each other. If he really was going to rule this country, he'd better act like any ruler in Alagaësia.

Saphira on the other hand, did it only because, like she'd said, she enjoyed discussions. But Eragon supposed this joy was mostly caused by the fact that she won most of the discussions between them. It seemed almost natural for her, where as he had to struggle to find every argument.

It was near midnight when Eragon and Saphira finally returned to the island, landing just outside their house. But still, even though it was so late, the air felt pleasantly mild, and Eragon would have wanted to stay up much longer than this. But, as he had found out by now, he could never know what was going to happen tomorrow. He must sleep when he could. So, with a small sigh, he closed the door and went to bed.

His waking dreams that night were full of impressions of Arya and her dragon, Fírnen. They were so close, and yet so far away! And, like so many times before, Eragon awoke with a painful longing in his heart.


	2. Decision

Do you think this is confusing? Well, I certainly do. This chapter was the one I first published yesterday, before I replaced it with another, which I have now deleted. And here comes this chapter again. But I promose I won't do anything like this again, and I hope you don't think it's too confusing to read!

Well, this chapter will be in Arya's POV, and it's a bit shorter than my other. It's just so that you know what's happened in Alagaësia while Eragon's training the new Riders and so on.

So, here comes:

Chapter 2: Decision

Arya was rushing along one of the narrow paths of Ellesméra, ignoring the looks she attracted from all the passing elves. She knew she must look wild, with her hair flying in the hard wind and her eyes flashing furiously. But right now, she was not in the state to care. The frustration within her was just too big. It was too much!

Ever since Eragon's departure, ever since Arya had agreed to become queen of Du Weldenvarden, that feeling of desperation had been growing inside her. And now, in that hot, stifling conference room, right in front of her whole council, it had finally exploded out of her.

This is wrong, she thought as she turned away from the main path and continued along a smaller one. I have done wrong. She had thought that becoming queen of the elves was the best thing she could do, that it would help her people rise and regain their former power and glory. But all she had become was a name upon a throne of roots. She did not even make all the decisions. That was her council's job. In fact, it felt as though she owned less power now than she had done out in the Empire, when she had been only an ambassador. And everyone also kept knowing everything she did, everywhere she went and everything she wanted!

Arya paused for a moment in her thoughts as she came out into the wide, quiet clearing in the middle of which the Menoa Tree stood. The oldest tree of the forest looked exactly like it always did: tall, mighty and silent. The stillness of this clearing even calmed Arya's furious feelings, though her mind still kept on racing, faster than she had just run.

Sinking onto one of the roots, she leaned her head against the tree trunk and closed her eyes, letting all the sounds of the forest wash over her. She knew how foolishly she had been acting in front of all those other elves, knew that some of the things she had said had been close to insulting. She had to apologize, but not yet. First, she needed to think, needed to understand.

The rest of Alagaësia had been ruled more than well by Nasuada, Orrin, Orik and Garzhvog, the Urgal. Of course, a few smaller quarrels and risings had broken out, especially in the larger cities. But it was nothing which Nasuada and the others could not handle. In fact, Arya could only find one decision to which she and Nasuada had not agreed, and that was when Nasuada had decided to control all the magicians in Alagaësia. Magic should be controlled, but not this sternly.

There came days, of course, when Nasuada's mind too was full of grief and longing. But Arya had a feeling that it was more for Murtagh, who had not been seen since the battle of Ilirea, than for Eragon and Saphira.

Eragon and Saphira. Arya had promised herself not to think about them, because she knew so well how painful that was. But yet, it seemed impossible for her to prevent her thoughts from returning to them at least once every day. It was all so unfair! And of course, that thought was just as childish as her outbreak during that meeting had been. But she could not keep it away from her.

- What am I going to do? Arya cried, suddenly and for no reason at all reaching out her mind towards the vast, clear consciousness of the Menoa Tree.

- That is a question you alone can answer.

The shock of actually getting a reply made Arya jump up from the ground and instantly pull back her mind. She had never heard of anyone, apart from Eragon and Saphira, to whom the Menoa Tree had spoken. Or Linnëa, as her name had been before she turned into a tree. Judging by what Eragon had told her, the tree was not at all interested in all the elves living in the vast forest of Du Weldenvarden. Nor did she care about the rest of Alagaësia. So why had she answered Arya's question like that?

Sitting down and reaching out her mind again, but more carefully this time, Arya asked:

- What ...what do you mean? And why are you speaking to me? The only people I know have talked to you are Eragon and Saphira, and my impression was that they forced you to help them, more or less.

- That is true, came that slow, rustling voice of the tree. But you woke my interest. I have found it much easier to understand and communicate with your people since that traitor for a king was killed.

- Traitor? Arya repeated, the word surprising her. I thought you took no interest in the war at all.

- Not until Eragon explained, said the tree.

- So ... Arya began, unsure how to say. How come my question ... interested you? It had nothing to do with you, had it?

A feeling of amusement, almost like a laugh, came from the tree, and the leaves above Arya's head rustled. She understood how silly her words had been, but said nothing about it. Instead, she waited for Linnëa to answer her question, however stupid it had been.

- Do you not think that your questions, and your decisions, will affect much more than you alone? asked the tree finally. As queen of Du Weldenvarden, your decisions will affect everyone of your people. If you, for instance, choose to leave Alagaësia to join the new order of Dragon Riders, the other elves will have to choose another leader. But if you instead decide to stay, that will affect the Riders. Every single person matters to them, you know, since they are yet so few.

Arya was silent. She had never thought that the Menoa Tree really knew so much of what was going on, even beyond the boundaries of Alagaësia. And leaving Alagaësia? Leaving to join the new Riders? That was a choice Arya had not thought she could make. But maybe she could, and her choice had been to stay? Yes, that was what she had thought when Eragon left. But now ...

- Consider what I have told you before you decide what to do, whispered the voice of Linnëa. Now, I shall leave you.

- No! Arya called. Wait! What ...

But the tree remained silent, and nothing Arya said would make it speak again.

Stunned and puzzled, Arya got to her feet again and wandered, slowly this time, back to the Crags of Tel'naeír, where she knew Fírnen was waiting for her. The emerald-green dragon had been out flying since early the same morning, but he had felt Arya's anger and then her astonishment, and he knew she needed him now. So he had come straight back to the small meadow outside Oromis' house, where they always met when they had been apart for some time.

It had not gone long before Arya and Fírnen were soaring up through the air, passed the tree tops and higher up still, until they were just below the soft clouds. By this time, their minds were as close to each other as dragon and Rider can ever get, and their conversation was intense. In fact, they were so absorbed that they did not even notice the nature around them, like they usually did.

- What do you think she meant? Arya asked, a question which she had been repeating more than once.

Fírnen's answer was the same as before:

- I have no more idea than you, Arya. However, I do think that you are right. We have to do something about this. At least, I do not think you should go on shouting at everyone in your council as soon as you're in a meeting.

- Please! Arya said, though she had to laugh briefly. You know I didn't mean to. I was just so ...

She broke off, because now when she had calmed down, it was impossible for her to explain why she'd run away like that. Luckily, however, Fírnen sensed her thoughts, and needed no more explanation.

- Do you know what? he said. Let's drop the matter for now, and maybe we will understand it better later. We can fly together instead, can't we? That is what you need now, Arya, I am sure.

Arya was doubtful, but his words were only too tempting. And soon, the two of them were diving down towards the trees as fast as they could.

Much later, when the evening had fallen and the air was full of the scent from countless kinds of flowers, Fírnen descended to land just outside the doors to Tialdarí Halls. Arya slid down his side, tired and confused, but much more cheerful now than before. Flying with Fírnen always pushed her thoughts away, no matter how troubling they seemed.

But something else had happened during the flight as well. Without really having to think about it, Arya had understood what the Menoa Tree had meant. What if she really could leave Alagaësia now? What if someone else could take the throne? What if Eragon could return to Alagaësia, at least for a week? They would be able to do so much, even during that short time. Tomorrow, she decided, I shall talk to Nasuada about it. Tomorrow.


	3. Message through a mirror

OK, so now let's get back to Eragon and Saphira ... Now, things are really beginning to happen ...

Chapter 3: Message through a mirror

Like most of the things Eragon and the others had discovered on the island, the weather here differed from the weather in Alagaësia in several ways, and it was never quite steady. During their first years on the island, they had never been able to guess when the next violent storm would break out, and they had often rushed over the entire island to get shelter under the trees. And in the middle of the winter, when they expected howling wind and thickly falling snow, there might come several days iin a row without any clouds at all in the sky.

Therefore, Eragon was not surprised when he looked out of his window the following morning and saw rain pouring from the sky, which yesterday had been bright blue. However, he could not help being disappointed, because he'd been longing to take a swim in the ocean before his meeting with Blödhgarm and the other elves. That always cleared his thoughts, which he felt was exactly what he needed right now.

So, after quickly having eaten breakfast, Eragon rushed down to the beach anyway and threw himself into the water. It was cool, but not freezing, and its way of carrying him was gentle and soothing. He swam away from the beach with powerful strokes, his eyes fixed upon the dark clouds above him, and his mind a long way away.

A picture from his waking dreams the same night kept returning to him, however much he struggled to push it out of his mind. It was of Arya and Fírnen, and they looked exactly like they had done when he and Saphira last saw them: Fírnen lifting Arya away from his side and flying away.

Away, Eragon thought, as if repeating the word would make the feeling of loss he felt less powerful. That is where they are - gone. They cannot come here, so you'd better stop thinking about it straight away!

But the problem was that he could not stop thinking about it. Of course, this was far from the first time he'd had dreams about Arya and Fírnen. But they had seldom seemed so real.

- Eragon, Saphira reminded him sternly. You just told yourself that you shouldn't think about it. So why do you go on doing that then?

Giving a helpless laugh, Eragon said:

- If I'd known that, don't you think you'd have been able to sense it? No, I have no idea, Saphira!

- Well, I can see that. Although ...

Saphira hesitated for a while, clearly unwilling to go on, though Eragon couldn't find the reason. A part of her mind seemed to be more carefully closed than usual, which was quite alarming. The times Eragon and Saphira chose not to share something with each othr were so few by now.

- I have been dreaming the same, Saphira finished finally. And I do think the same about them as you. There is something odd about this, though I cannot for the life of me work out what it might be!

- Do you think ... Eragon began, feeling the excitement rising inside him with every word. Do you think they're trying to contact us? Like the first time I ever saw Arya in a dream.

- I don't know, Eragon, Saphira said. If they wanted us something, they'd scry us from Ellesméra. Or from Ilirea or Farthen Dûr, or wherever they might be.

- Yes, they would. Well, I think I'd better go to that meeting now, anyway. Maybe that can distract me from this.

Disappointed and even more troubled than when he'd woken, Eragon returned to the beach, used a spell to dry himself and then went up to the meeting hall. And he was so absorbed by the conversation he'd had with Saphira, that he forgot all about trying to protect himself from the rain.

Today's discussion was about whether or not they should extend their country to the somewhat bigger island, which they could just make out from the top of the highest mountain. Blödhgarm and a few other elves pointed out the fact that if the Order continued growing like this, with both Riders and wild dragons, their island would soon not be able to house them all.

Eragon's objection was that the previous order of Dragon Riders had lived on Vroengard for several hundred years, and that there never had been any problems for them. And besides, they could not know what might be hiding up in those wild mountains on that other island. Because, as they all knew, there must be some kind of intelligent life here as well as in Alagaësia, only they had not found it yet.

"We could send out a group to look", Blödhgarm said at one point, when the meeting had been going on for several hours. "They could tell us if they found anything, good as well as bad. We could send our most skilled magicians. I am sure they will manage to do this."

"Yes, they will, probably", Eragon said. "But ..."

He got no further, because there was a sudden, urgent knock on the door, upon which it swung open and Elva stepped over the threshold. Her violet eyes were full of excitement, an expression she did not usually show to anyone.

Out of all the five Riders Eragon had trained so far, Elva had been the first to arrive. She was also the most unlikely person to be chosen by a dragon. But, as Saphira pointed out, the girl had been involved so strongly with dragons and Riders ever since she was little, that it was not that strange after all. However, Eragon remembered Arya's terrified expression when she had told him what had happened through their Scrying mirrors. It had taken him quite long to reassure her that the arrival of Elva would not make any difference, except that it meant a Rider more.

He had, however, been forced to break the spell allowing her to feel others' pain, because he understood that a Rider with that ability must not exist. He had expected Elva to object, but, to his relief, she had agreed as soon as he explained his reasons.

By now, Elva was the best Rider on the island after Eragon, and she seemed much happier than the grim little child he'd known back in Alagaësia too. He supposed that the burden of feeling everyone's pain had really been too much for her, despite her efforts to hide the fact.

"Ebrithil", Elva was now saying. "I am sorry to disturb you, but there has come an urgent message from Ilirea. They want you to come as soon as possible."

"From Ilirea?" Eragon repeated, getting to his feet and glancing over at Blödhgarm to see the elf's reaction. "Who is it?"

"They do not want me to tell you", said Elva. "Please, will you come?"

"Of course I will", Eragon said immediately, and then turned and hurried out of the room, ahead of Elva.

The Scrying mirror was being kept in their largest hall, located in the very centre of the forest. It looked a bit like Tialdarí Hall in Ellesméra, though there were many things in which they differed from each other as well. The Hall, as they usually called it, was where they held all their celebrations, but it was also a place where they could all gather for safety, if they were attacked by someone. It was a light, airy room which Eragon liked rather much, although it sometimes reminded him too strongly of Ellesméra.

As soon as they reached the Hall, Elva turned and hurried back the way she'd come. She would not have had to follow me, Eragon thought, before walking into the Hall alone.

The mirror stood in the back of the hall, on a small table, and it seemed to take Eragon much longer than usual to walk up to it. The eager inside him was mingled with anxiety. What if something had happened?

However, as soon as his eyes fell upon the person gazing out at him from the mirror, all thoughts and feelings were for a brief second swept away from Eragon's mind, like the leaves in a storm.

Arya's sparkling green eyes were staring into his face, just as intense as he remembered. And she was just as beautiful, just as perfect, that Eragon found himself simply staring at her. After all his dreams about her, after all that time he'd been imagining them meeting again, he was now completely unable to think of anything to say.

"Eragon", Arya said uncertainly, touching her lips with two fingers. "Atra esterní ono thelduin."

"Atra du evarínya ono varda", Eragon replied, slightly surprised by her choice to speak first.

"Eragon", she said again, evidently not knowing how to begin their conversation. "I ... I hope you are well."

"Yes", he said. "I am ... of course. What about you?"

"I'm all right", said Arya. "Well, I shall try to put this briefly. I ... I'm really sorry for not having contacted you before. I should have done it earlier, but ..."

Her voice faded away, but Eragon hardly noticed.

During his first years on the island, Eragon had kept in touch with both Arya, Nasuada and Orik. It had, of course, been painful to speak with Arya, but he had never showed that to anyone except Saphira. Over the years, however, it had gone longer and longer between their conversations, until finally they had not heard anything from each other for several years. Eragon had been feeling hurt and angry at first, but he had for some reason suppressed his urge to contact Arya himself.

"Well", Arya went on, interrupting Eragon's wandering thoughts. "My reason for contacting you now is that there has been a certain amount of things going on here in Alagaësia. There have been a few risings among both humans and Urgals, especially in the larger cities, and a few months ago, a war broke out between two dwarven clans. It is nothing we cannot handle, of course, but we have decided to hold a meeting and discuss it all. And so ... we wondered if you would like to join us as well. After all, you have not visited us since you left. I see of course if you have a lot to do yourself, but if you haven't ..."

There, she stopped again, waiting for his reply. But Eragon had no idea what to reply to all this. Things were going on in Alagaësia? Arya was asking him to join her, Nasuada and all the others he knew, to discuss their situation? What did all this mean? And how could it happen so suddenly?

"I ... I do want to come, of course", Eragon said. "And I haven't got anything to do that cannot wait. Where shall we meet? In Ilirea?"

"Wait!" Arya said. "Wait, please! So ... you do want to come."

It was as if she had to repeat it to herself several times to believe that it was true. Eragon understood her feelings and waited, silent and motionless, until the absent-minded expression vanished from her face and she continued speaking.

During the rest of their conversation, Eragon and Arya discussed details, like when and where they were going to meet. Arya surprised him by telling him to come to a place in the Spine, quite near his old home, in Carvahall. But when he asked her about it, she would not tell him anything more.

Finally, Arya said:

"Well, I think that was all. We'll be expecting you in five days' time."

"Yes", Eragon said. "Till then, may the stars watch over you, Arya Dröttning."

As Eragon said this, he noticed an odd expression passing over Arya's face. But before he had time to study it more closely, the image of her in the mirror had gone.

Back in the conference room, Eragon had difficulties speaking coherently when he told Blödhgarm and the other elves about his visit to Alagaësia. His feeling of anxiety had vanished completely, and was instead replaced by an impatience that made him want to jump straight onto Saphira's back and take off right away. However, he knew how much there was to be done, and kept his feelings to himself during the rest of the day.

When darkness finally descended over the island, all Eragon's preparations were complete. He had left Blödhgarm in charge of the island while he was gone, despite Elva's assurance that she was perfectly capable of doing that. And he had visited the place, deep in the mountain, where they hid all the eggs and the Eldunarís, to make sure they were safe.

Now, everything was ready, but he and Saphira were not going to leave until the following morning. Eragon could hardly wait.


	4. Together again

Hello everyone,

Here I am again with the 4th and by far happiest of my chapters! It's really nice to write about glad characters ...

Anyway, this chapter will begin in Arya's POV, but will change to Eragon's towards the end. I've done that to show how they sort of get closer and closer to each other, until they ...

Well, what happens, you'll have to read below.

Chapter 4: Together again

The day when Eragon and Saphira were supposed to arrive dawned bright and cold. Arya awoke with a feeling of nervousness, which intensified the longer she stayed in bed. When she finally was unable to bear it, she got up and made her silent way through the still sleeping house. The door creaked as usual when she opened it, but she didn't think Roran or Katrina had heard it.

Outside, the air was fresh in that way which only existed just before sunrise, and little dewdrops were clinging to the grass as Arya walked through it. It was going to be a beautiful autumn day, excellent for flying with Fírnen. She could see that already, but suppressed the impulse to call for her dragon. Flying would have to wait.

Raising her eyes to watch the last of the stars fading away, Arya let her thoughts wander freely. During the five days since her conversation with Eragon through their Scrying mirrors, the eagerness and the excitement had been rising within her until she felt as though she would burst. But now, when she was actually going to meet him again, the anxiety had taken over instead. In what ways had Eragon changed during those fifty years they had been apart? In what ways had she changed in his eyes? She knew that the burden of being queen, which was upon her even when she left Du Weldenvarden, must have affected her personality in some way, though no one had actually said how.

She had not informed her people of her decision, which had been to simply abdicate and follow Eragon back to his island, but suddenly wished she had. If they'd been able to arrange all this before Eragon arrived, she would not have that hanging over her now. Well, she thought grimly. At least, he and Saphira might be able to help us in some way. I do not envy him, though.

In an effort to prevent these thoughts from taking over her mind completely, Arya turned her attention towards Roran and Katrina instead. They had been very kind to her over the past years, and had allowed her to stay with them as often as she liked. Being so isolated from the rest of Alagaësia, Carvahall felt like the only place where she could really ignore her position, except when someone made jokes about it. And that was so much better than having to be followed by several elves wherever she went. Even when she thought she was all alone!

Also, Arya knew that Roran and Katrina thought they owed a debt to her, after she had helped them rebuild their old house, and later the whole village, a few years after Eragon's departure. Some of the other villagers had not been too happy about the idea at first, but had got over their feelings when they realized how similar Roran's and Katrina's house looked to their old one.

And now, after fifty years together with her, the villagers seemed not to think that having an elf among them was any strange at all. They even invited her to some of their celebrations, when she had time to be present.

Arya smiled towards the slowly rising sun as she thought of all this. Then her thoughts returned to Eragon yet again, and to what he might say about her close friendship with his oldest friends. He would approve it, wouldn't he? She had been sure before, but was now uncertain.

- Do not alarm yourself when you do not need to, Fírnen said in a clear effort to sound reproving, but with little success.

- I am doing my best, Arya responded, her bright laughter floating up and spreading with the wind while she spoke. Where are you now, anyway?

A picture of high mountains, passing under the green dragon flashed through her mind, accompanied by the feeling of cold air rushing past. Arya knew that he was trying, without words, to persuade her to join him in the air, but she resisted the temptation. She wanted to remain with the others, at least until Eragon and Saphira were seen.

- Then return to the house, if that is what you want, said Fírnen, who succeeded more with his reproving tone than he had done before. But you know what I think about it. And I also believe that flying with me will reduce your nervousness much better than if you just stay indoors.

- Maybe, arya said, unable to help a sigh, before she broke the contact between them.

When the sun had risen high enough in the sky for its warmth to reach Arya, and when she thought it was time for breakfast, she hastened back to the light and cheerful house. Roran had already gone down to the village, and Katrina was laying the table. She turned her head at once when she sensed someone behind her.

"Hi!" she said. "I heard you leave about an hour ago. You could have done something about the door, couldn't you?"

"Yes, I could", Arya admitted, taking the plates from Katrina's overfull arms. "I have said I shall for years, I know, but ... I just never get around to doing it."

Katrina smiled.

"Oh, never mind!" she said. "Come and sit down! Have you eaten anything?"

"No", Arya said. "But let's do that quickly, because there is still quite a lot to be done, isn't there?"

They spent the morning making the house ready for the arrival of the guests. Arya collected all flowers she could find from the surroundings, which was an impressive lot considering how late in the ear it was, and put them up all over the house. When she was finished, the house looked as much like one of Ellesméra's hals as she guessed it was ever going to get.

But all the time, she was also aware of how much her nervousness affected everything she did. She spent several minutes twining the last creeper around the leg of the table, because her hands were shaking and she kept having to redo it.

"Arya, that's enough", said Katrina finally from behind her. "It's all right, you know. Eragon won't mind if you have done one little thing wrong. He won't even see it."

"But I will", Arya pointed out, straightening herself up to meet Katrina's eyes. "And I know how it should be."

"Don't worry!" Katrina said, smiling reassuringly at her. "Anyway, if you see Nasuada coming, please tell me, because she should be here soon. She'll come together with Roran and Ismira, I think. Will the others arrive around the same time, do you think?"

"Yes", said Arya. "Is there anything more to be done?"

"No, I don't think so", said Katrina, letting her gaze wander around the room in satisfaction. "We've done well. Or ... maybe not. Eragon won't recognize the house, which we wanted him to. Didn't we?"

A sudden cold sensation began to grow inside Arya. Katrina was right. They had wanted to show Eragon how well they had managed to rebuild both his old house and the rest of Carvahall. But if they decorated the house like this, he would not recognize it for what it was, would he?

"I was only joking", Katrina said quickly, noticing the look on Arya's face. "It's all perfect! Now, we'll have to eat something before the others arrive!"

In the middle of the afternoon, Roran, Ismira and Nasuada arrived, closely followed by Albriech, Baldor, Hope and Angela, the herbalist. They all inspected the house, but the only one to comment it was Angela.

"You are a bit nervous, after all, aren't you?" she said to Arya, that mysterious little smile visible on her face.

"I am not!" Arya said, though she was unsure why she tried to deny it.

"Oh, don't lie!" sighed Angela. " You know you can't. You get that uncertain expression every time you try, and you tell us the truth clearly enough anyway."

Unable to find any retort, Arya simply shot the herbalist a very stirn look.

Dusk was gathering around the house when they finally set off towards the place Arya had told Eragon to come to. Not having any idea about where they were going to meet, she had chosen the clearing in which Eragon had raised Saphira. It lay near the house, and both of them knew very well how to get there. At least, she hoped Saphira still remembered the way.

Everyone in the group, except for Arya, kept on talking merrily as they walked into the forest. Angela soon started telling them stories from the war against Galbatorix, making it sound as though she instead of Eragon was the hero, which especially amused Roran. His laugh echoed through the otherwise quiet forest, and Arya could sense how several of the smaller animals fled at once when they heard the group of humans approach. If she had been alone, she would never have caused such fear to fill the entire clearing, but she could find no way of telling the others to stop talking altogether.

So instead, she did her best to soothe all the animals she could reach, and kept her gaze fixed upon the sky, looking intently for any sign of a blue, shimmering dragon.

Meanwhile, Saphira was flying swiftly over the mountains, guided by her own sense of direction, which was far beyond that of any human or elf. Eragon kept smiling at everything he saw, from the distant mountain peaks, which were already swept in white, to the valleys and forests they passed over. It was all familiar. It was his home, and he was really returning. Until now, it had been hard for him to believe, even when they had made out the coast of Alagaësia far ahead of them. That had been familiar too, yes, but not at all in this way.

- Eragon! said Saphira suddenly, startling him. We're there now! Look!

And so they were. Below them, a small clearing could be seen, and even from this hight, Eragon was able to recognize it. This was where he had hidden Saphira, where he had come to talk to her every day, and where he had given her her name.

With a grin spreading all over his face, Eragon jumped off Saphira even before she reached the ground, to look around at all the people who had been waiting for him. They were all standing silent for a while, before everyone shouted:

"Eragon!"

And before Eragon knew what was really going on, he found himself surrounded by familiar figures. Roran, patting him repeatedly on the back and calling:

"Now you certainly have a lot to tell us, haven't you?"

Katrina, smiling silently at him with the tears visible in her eyes, just like when he had departed. Angela, crying something which he was unable to make out over all the other voices. And Nasuada, shaking his hand and saying that she had been missing his support when ruling the Empire.

But soon, Eragon looked over all the people around him, searching for someone else. He saw her at once, standing by the trees, a little aside from the others. She made no attempt to push forwards into the circle of people surrounding him, but her eyes never left his face. Her expression was one he had never seen before, like longing and uncertainty mingled, as if she was unsure how he would greet her.

Eragon did not need to think. Clearing the distance between himself and Arya in two big strides, he found himself suddenly clinging to her, for a moment oblivious to all the people watching. And he knew she was feeling the same, even though she had been so unwilling to show her feelings before.

Eragon felt none of the passion or the grief he had experienced together with Arya before, but just a quiet sensation of happiness. It was like a dragon and Rider meeting again after a very long time apart.

It was Angela's voice which finally made them break apart, as she said:

"Well, I think you ought to let each other breathe. Otherwise, I'll have to resuscitate you yet again, which I'm quite tired of by now."

Turning red, Arya stared around the clearing, evidently searching for something to say, but with no success. An awkward silence ruled for a while, and it was clear from the looks on the others' faces that this was something they knew they should not have seen. However, Eragon did not blame them. He had acted without thinking, and if it had made Arya awkward or displeased in any other way, he would have to apologize later.

"But come on, all of you!" Katrina said finally. "We can't stand out here all night. It's getting cold! And besides, there is so much to show you, Eragon. So now, let's go!"

And, as the evening fell over the high, mighty and silent mountains of the Spine, Eragon started walking towards the house and the village he did not yet know existed.


	5. Among old friends

YEAH! FINALLY ANOTHER CHAPTER! WOW!

Well, I know it's been about ... two weeks since I last updated this story. Irritating, really ... But now I'm back with chapter 5.

So ... here it is.

Chapter 5: Among old friends

Eragon did not think he would ever forget this evening, and during the months to come, he only needed to recall it once to feel strength and hope surge through his body. He also knew that Saphira, who was resting outside the house together with Fírnen, felt exactly the same, which in turn strengthened Eragon's joy.

They ate dinner in the house which looked so like the home of his childhood, he had been unable to suppress a gasp when he first stepped into it. And yet, it was also different from the house he knew, as if someone had changed all he'd known as a child. But, he realized, only for the better. Of course, the memories of Garrow, of the life he'd been living here before he found Saphira's egg, were still painful. But there was so much right now to be happy about, he simply had no place left in his mind for mourning or grief.

And now, Eragon was sitting next to Arya at the head of the table, letting all the voices in the room wash over him, but saying little himself. Vaguely, he wondered if he and Arya had been placed next to each other by chance, or if it had been arranged on purpose, but pushed the question out of his mind.

The longer the dinner continued, the more light-hearted the atmosphere became. The villagers from Carvahall seemed determinate not to let their talks become stiff and awkward, even when Nasuada, the queen of the Empire, was involved. And Arya, Eragon was both surprised and pleased to notice, they treated as one of their own. They included her in their talks and even made jokes on her expense, as if they had known her for years. Which they might as well have done, Eragon realized with an odd feeling in his stomach. It had after all gone fifty years, and he did not know anything of what had been going on here. Arya could even have known these people for longer than he himself had.

"Eragon?" Arya said suddenly, recalling his thoughts to the present. "What are you thinking about? You look ... troubled."

Eragon noticed that she was speaking the Ancient Language, as if she wanted to keep the conversation between them private. It made a feeling of warmth which he had not experienced in many years stir inside him, and for a moment, he completely forgot what he had been about to say.

"No", Eragon said once he had managed to collect his thoughts somewhat. "I'm not troubled. I was just wondering ... for how long have you known all these people? I mean Albriech and Baldor and all the other villagers. They seem so familiar with you, which they definitely were not when I left."

"They weren't at first", Arya confirmed. "But Roran and Katrina invited me to stay with them as often as I wished, and it was a perfect way for me to ... get rid of some of my problems. And then, once I helped Roran and Katrina to rebuild this house, I think the other villagers understood - finally - that I meant them no harm. After that, I have had no problems to speak with anyone here in Carvahall."

She stopped speaking and looked at him, as if wondering if her action had pleased him or not. However, Eragon could not see why he should not be pleased. And when Arya saw his smile, she seemed to relax almost at once.

"Oh, I see", said Eragon, before returning hungrily to his meal.

"Now, Eragon", Roran said when they had finally eaten their fill. "Since your story is so long, I think you'd better start telling it right away. Otherwise we'll have to sit here all night, perhaps even longer. So go ahead!"

Eragon could not help grimacing as he replied:

"Even though it has gone fifty years since I saw you all, I have not become any better at telling stories than I was then. So please, do not expect this to be anything worth remembering!"

"How good a story is depends more on its content than on how well it is told, I believe", Arya said in her soft, musical voice. "And we are all too interested in hearing what has happened to you to care about how well you tell us."

She looked straight into his eyes as she said the last words, and Eragon suddenly remembered how intent she had been on hearing what he and Saphira had found on Vroengard. And he understood that she, and all the others as well, were feeling exactly the same now.

So, during the rest of the evening, Eragon recounted all he could remember from his fifty ears on the island. He told of how he and the elves who accompanied him had been sailing around on the ocean for days, until all their supplies were empty. It had not been that hard to get water, because they could always remove the salt from the water they took frm the sea. But finding something to eat, since elves ate no flesh, turned out to be much harder. They had not known which of the plants growing under the surface of the sea that they could eat, and hadn't dared take the risk of eating anything that might be poisonous.

As a result of this, they had been weak and possessed almost completely by hopelessness when they had finally been able to make out the island. In the distance, it had looked like a lonely mountain, rising out of the wild, stormy sea around it.

As Eragon told of this, he noticed the silence which had now fallen in the room. The only sound which could be heard apart from his own voice was the pleasant crackling of the fire, now spreading its warmth through the entire room. In fact, everyone in the room - or at least everyone from Carvahall - behaved just like they had done when listening to Brom's endless stories about dragons. With a sudden jolt, Eragon realized that he was probably being thought of as the new Brom by now, a position he was not quite sure he wanted to have.

Meanwhile, Arya was squeezing his hand under the table, as if in an effort to prevent him from ever going back to that new, exciting land which he was right now telling them all about. Eragon fell silent for a short moment, the old, familiar ache in his chest intensifying as he looked at Arya. He wanted so much to be together with her, and yet he knew that it must not go long before he had to return to the island. If only she could follow!

"Eragon?" Roran said. "What are you thinking about?"

Then, seeming to understand what was going on in Eragon's mind, he added in a reproachful tone.

"Arya, you mustn't distract our hero right now! All that can wait until later, can't it?"

Arya blushed, and the whole room echoed with laughter. It was clear that this was far from the first time this joke had been made. And eventually, Eragon was unable to prevent himself from laughing with the others.

Soon, all sense of courtesy, and even reason, vanished from the feast. Eragon gave up the attempt to tell his story, since everyone kept bursting into laughter after every sentence he spoke. Instead, their talks turned towards old memories from their time together, in the war against Galbatorix. IN a dramatic way, Roran, albriech and Baldor recounted their escape from the Ra'zac, and how all the villagers had come to join the Varden. Of course, everyone around the table knew all this already, but it was still nice to just sit and listen as someone else talked.

Nasuada then told them about when she'd moved the Varden to Surda, something which had at first seemed too hard to accomplish. Eragon watched her across the table as she spoke, noticing the true smile that spread across her face. He had not believed that the queen of the Empire enjoyed this feast so much, however well he'd known her before.

Darkness fell outside the windows of the house. Albriech and Baldor were the first to leave the feast, because they had a long way to go to their own house. The other villagers followed soon enough, until Eragon, Roran, Katrina, Arya, Nasuada and Angela were sitting alone at the table.

The silence after the others had gone was immense. Even the fire's crackling had diminished by now, since no one had remembered to put another log on it. Eragon leaned back in his chair, with his eyes closed, and let out a long breath. His entire body felt heavy with tiredness after the long flight, during which he and Saphira had not rested more than an hour at most.

"Eragon", said Arya, her voice gently forcing him to open his eyes. "Before we go to bed, could I please have a ... private word with you? Not for long, because we are all tired, but there is so much I want to tell you!"

"Yes, of course", said Eragon, suddenly wide awake again. "We could join the dragons or something."

As they stood up to leave, Eragon saw Roran giving him a pointed look, and thought he understood why. For some irritating reason, he found his face turning hot and red, and suddenly longed to cool himself outside.

The moon had risen high above the mountains of the Spine, and the air around them was chilly. They walked in ssilence for a while, Eragon with his eyes fixed upon Arya. Her features were exactly the same as he remembered, with her long, black hair and her slanted green eyes. But there was still something about her that seemed to have changed dramatically, though he was not sure exactly what it was.

By the time they reached the woods, the unmistakable sound of dragon wings could be heard clearly through the air, and soon, they were able to make out the two dragons, swooping down to land by their side. They looked so strong and mighty where they stood, staring intently into the distance at something neither Eragon, nor Arya was able to make out.

By unspoken agreement, Eragon and Saphira had kept their minds as closed as they could ever get during the evening, so as not to disturb each others' feelings and thoughts. But now, Eragon could feel all the emotions streaming from Saphira's mind and into his. Happiness was dominating, just like in his own mind, but the astonishment shone just as brightly. However, what it was that astonished Saphira so much, Eragon could not work out, however much he struggled. And Saphira would not say a word about it either.

Meanwhile, Arya and Fírnen seemed to have had a rather intense discussion, judging by Arya's tense expression. But she did not say a word about it, and Eragon knew better than to ask. During the past fifty ears, he had discovered only too well how much there could be which a Rider and dragon disagreed about, even though their minds were so close to each other.

They sat together in a small clearing, hidden from view by trees that surrounded them on all sides. Eragon leaned against Saphira's warm side, gazing up at the sky overhead, which was dotted with small, shining stars. The silence was complete, because this late in the year, all birds had fled from the mountains, and the wind had ceased.

Finally, after a few moments during which none of them moved or spoke, Arya touched Eragon's arm, and he turned towards her again. Her face wore that inscrutable expression which she had shown so often when Eragon first got to know her, but he could see something else there as well. It looked as if she was trying to hide some expression, though Eragon had no idea what it was. But when Arya spoke, her words caused Eragon to forget all about his observations.

"Eragon", she said. "I suppose this will come as a shock to you, although Fírnen has already told Saphira. I know I have never ... well, been that good at explaining this kind of things. But ... well, just before I contacted you, Fírnen and I decided that if you and Saphira still wanted us, we could follow you to the island and ... help you train the new Riders and dragons. We have been thinking about it for several years now, but not until a few weeks ago did we find a way to really do it. Of course, there are still a lot of things to be done ..."

Arya fell silent, evidently waiting for a reply. But Eragon was not in the state to say anything. Arya's words were echoing in his mind, but he still could not understand the meaning of them. Was she saying that she and Fírnen could come? That they could follow him and Saphira? But she had been so certain before that it would be impossible for her to do that! What had made her change her mind so completely?

"How ... how is that?" Eragon asked, whispering though he did not know why. "I mean, how are you going to do that?"

"I will abdicate", said Arya. "I have been thinking about it, as I said, for many years now. But it has seemed ... too difficult. You see, there are still a lot of people in Du Weldenvarden who want me as a leader. I have tried to satisfy their wish, but it has ... it has not felt right. Especially not lately. I mean, I thought before that it was the right thing for me to do, but I was wrong. I made a mistake, and I am just trying to correct that now."

Silence reigned between them yet again, as Eragon's mind finally seemed to have accepted that he was not dreaming, and that he had not misheard Arya's words. And, as that understanding filtered into his mind, he felt a wide and probably childish grin spreading across his face.

Reaching out, he put his arm around Arya's shoulder. Neither of them spoke for a very long time, but just sat next to each other with the dragons behind them. Words seemed simply unnecessary, since both of them knew so well by now what the other felt. Eragon could not understand it, because it had certainly not been like this when he left. But right now, he hardly gave that a thought.

Finally, Arya stood up and said, very quietly:

"Come on! Let's go back to the house. You can have the room next to mine. I think it is unoccupied. If Angela has not left any of her things there, of course."

"What do you mean?" Eragon asked, getting to his feet too.

"Oh, never mind!" said Arya, shaking her head. "It was something Angela said a few years ago, but ... she says a lot of odd things."

"Well, I have noticed that", Eragon agreed.

Both he and Arya continued laughing as they walked back to the house.


	6. Carvahall

Hi everyone!

I am pleased to present you with the sixth chapter of this incredible story! But no, now I'm beginning to sound like Angela myself.

Anyway, I know there's not much action going on, and maybe there should have been more EXA, but ... there will certainly be a lot of that in later chapters, so ... read on, please!

Chapter 6: Carvahall

Eragon awoke when the light of the risen sun struck his eyelids. Shading his eyes, he looked around the room he had slept in. It was small and the walls were bare. But even so, it gave him an odd feeling of safety.

Eragon stretched, yawned and got out of bed, his mind still elsewhere. Before, all his memories associated with Carvahall had been filled with pain. But now, that seemed to have changed altogether. Eragon found that this pleased him, because now he would be able to think of his life in the Spine without feeling that sharp pain in his chest.

In the kitchen, all the others were seated around the table. Everyone had finished their breakfast except for arya, who apparently had waited for Eragon to arrive. With a faint smile, he dragged out the chair next to her and sat down.

"Good morning", Angela said. "I was just going to rush into your room and wake you."

"No, you weren't", Eragon replied, not altogether sure that his words were true.

"So", said the herbalist, looking from Eragon to Arya, seemingly to see what reaction her next words would get from them. "For exactly how long did you stay up after we'd gone to bed? I heard you leave, and I was intending to stay awake until you came back. But I ... well, was unsuccessful. So now, tell me, please."

Arya gave Angela a look, as if she had been expecting this question, but yet did not know how to avoid answering it. Then, she said:

"For half an hour, I suppose."

Angela looked quite disappointed with the answer, but decided not to drive the matter further. Her decision relieved Eragon, who was not that willing to discuss his and Arya's conversation with anyone for the moment, even though they had only spoken about their future. That one night seemed, for some reason, like one of their most private times together so far.

"So ... what do you intend to do today?" Roran asked Eragon, before the awkward silence in the room lasted too long.

"No idea", Eragon replied. "It would be nice to see the village, of course."

"Excellent!" shouted Roran. "We could all go down, couldn't we? Or is any of you in a hurry to leave?"

He glanced at Arya while he spoke, as though expecting her to object. But she just shook her head and said:

"I am not."

"We'll just have to watch out for snowstorms, won't we?" Eragon pointed out. "If we stay much longer, the winter will catch up with us."

"Yes, that is true", Arya replied, gazing into the distance. "We'll see ..."

Eragon nodded, then looked up and found that Roran, Katrina and Angela were all watching him in silence. Roran smiled as Eragon met his eyes, but it was impossible to tell the reason.

"What?" Eragon asked, somewhat confused by their silent laughter.

"Well, let's put it like this", Roran said. "Neither of us understood a word of what you two said to each other."

"Why on earth not?" asked Eragon, utterly bemused by this time.

At these words, Angela burst into a storm of laughter, rocking back and forth on her chair. Eragon had never seen her laugh like this, and supposed she was exaggerating, although he was unsure how much.

"Didn't you even notice you changed language?" Angela asked when she had collected herself again.

"Changed ...", Eragon began, and then fell silent.

Until that moment, he had been unaware that he and Arya had been speaking the Ancient Language. He was pleased by the knowledge, because it meant that he could now speak the Ancient Language just as fluently as his own tongue.

"Sorry", Eragon said. "We were talking about how long we should stay here. That was all. Well ... shall we be off then?"

"As soon as you have finished your breakfast", assured angela.

The day was just as beautiful as the previous one, with only a few clouds drifting hesitantly across the sky above their heads as they walked slowly down towards the centre of the village. Yesterday's wind had, however, returned, which made it feel much colder than it would have done if the air had been calm. But Eragon did not mind, because there was a freshness in the air which he appreciated just as much as the warmth. With a smile, he looked around.

The mountains had not at all changed, or so it seemed, and he supposed it would take several hundreds of years for them to do so. They were so ancient, he thought. Even more ancient than Du Weldenvarden.

The village looked, once they reached it, not like Eragon remembered it, but the feeling was still there. And the figures walking along the streets or standing in groups, talking merrily to each other, were familiar and friendly, although they had all got alarmingly much older since Eragon last saw them. Horst and Elain, and a lot of his other friends, must be dead by now. And their children were old men, like Roran. Like himself. Like Brom had been when he first got to know him.

"Look", said Roran. "I want to visit Baldor. He's the smith now, after Horst ... But never mind! Can't we meet again here in a few hours or so?"

"Yes, that'll be fine", said Eragon, alarmed by the sudden change of subject and by the tense expression on the others' faces.

"I could show you the village", Arya offered. "There are some things that have changed. Or so the others say, anyway."

"Yes", said Eragon, who was grateful for any opportunity to be together with her. "Let's go!"

They walked silently along the streets for a couple of minutes. During this time, Eragon realized that not as many people as he had expected were familiar to him. It gave him a strange feeling, as if he was in a dream where some things were the same and others were not, and he could not see the differences as clearly as he would have liked to. And on top of that, Roran's last words before they parted kept nagging at his mind, until he simply had to get an explanation or else go mad.

"Arya", he said, noticing as he spoke that his attempt to keep his voice calm had failed altogether. "What did Roran mean when he spoke about Horst? It seemed as though he ... did not want to go on. Or as if he ... remembered something. Am I right?"

"Oh yes", said Arya, fixing her eyes upon him. "You are. I must admit I don't know much about it myself, but ... a few years after you had left, Horst suffered some kind of ... accident. I don't know what it was, and no one seems willing to speak about it."

"Not even Roran and Katrina?"

"No. Anyway, after Horst had died, Elain was unable to bear it. The healers tried to cure her, but she died too the following year."

Eragon said nothing. What Arya had said had increased the feeling that something here was wrong. He tried to tell himself that it is only natural for people to die, and that Horst and Elain would both have been dead by now anyway, so the news should not have shocked him like this. But he had little success. The knowledge tha it had happened so soon after his departure, and that they could have lived on for several more years, made anger flash through him, like a hot spear.

- Eragon? said Saphira.

- What?

Saphira and Fírnen had kept to the woods ever since last night, because they knew how people would react if two dragons came walking along the streets. Eragon also knew that the two dragons were just as eager to be together as he and Arya, and what place could be better if they wished to be undisturbed than the Spine?

However, Saphira's thoughts had been with Eragon all the time, and so she too had heard what Arya had said. To Eragon's surprise, the dragon seemed actually more anxious about him than about what they had just found out.

- You cannot blame it on you, said Saphira firmly. Besides, if you do, that will include me as well, so I won't let you.

- I'm not blaming it on us, Eragon protested, ignoring her comment, which under normal circumstances would have made him laugh. I just think that ...

- That we should have been here, Saphira finished. But that's exactly what I mean, Eragon.

Saphira was quiet for a long time, and when she spoke again, her voice had softened remarkably.

- Iäll think it over, she said. Perhaps I'll come up with some idea that escaped all of you.

- Probably you will, Eragon agreed. I've learnt by now that dragons nearly always do.

- How kind of you, Eragon, Saphira said sarcastically, upon which Eragon finally could not resist the urge to smile.

The talk with Saphira had forced Eragon to realize that he should not brood more on the matter, and so the rest of the day passed without any troubling thoughts. He and Arya went through the new Carvahall, stopping here and there to talk to people. Eragon quickly came to the conclusion that even though he only knew half of the villagers, they all knew him. And he had been right the day before when he thought that the people here would give him the same position Brom had had, regardless of whether he wanted it or not. But the more time that passed, the more clearly he began to realize that it would not be as hard as he had expected it to. In fact, he found he was even beginning to enjoy it.

When afternoon arrived, they took farewell of Nasuada, who said she could not leave The Empire for longer than this without anything going wrong. She sounded cheerful enough when she said it, but Eragon could see in her eyes that she was talking out of experience. For a short moment, he even wondered if she knew something about Horst's accident, but he dismissed the idea impatiently. How was she, the queen of the Empire, supposed to know anything about that?

The others returned to the house, where Roran lit a fire and Katrina started making dinner. Eragon sat in front of the fireplace, staring into the flickering, dancing flames. His thoughts were wandering, but he did not pay attention to any of them. The day had been so long, he thought, and he had experienced both great happiness and an anxiety that he, despite his attempts to push It away, could not rid himself of completely.

"Eragon?" a woman's voice behind him said.

"Yes, Arya", Eragon murmured, not taking his eyes off the flames.

"My name is Angela", the woman exclaimed indignantly, and Eragon turned in surprise.

In the morning, when they had got down to the village, Angela had gone off by herself to do strange things which she refused to speak about, and Eragon had not seen her since then.

"Can't you tell us apart now?" Angela was saying. "Didn't I tell you once that you should pay more attention to your surroundings, or else someone would be able to stick a knife in you? Wasn't that what I said when we were ... let me see ... on our way from Belatona?"

"Yes, it was", said Eragon. "And yes, I can tell you apart. I was just ... thinking."

"Well, I did know that", Angela said. "You and Arya get that same expression when you're deep in your own thoughts. So ..."

She lowered her voice and went on:

"So you know?"

"Know ... what?"

"About what happened to Horst."

"Yes", said Eragon iin surprise. "So ... you think it's strange as well, do you?"

"Certainly I do", Angela told him. "And, as I hope you've noticed by now, I make few mistakes when it comes to mysterious things like this."

Angela laughed at the expression on Eragon's face, and then she said in a louder voice:

"Let's talk more about that later, when we have time."

With those words, the herbalist got to her feet and went over to sit by the table, and Eragon was left even more confused than before his conversation with her.


	7. Different

Hello, anyone who doesn't think I'm dead!

So now ... what shall I say? Why haven't I updated in almost a month? Well, the only explanation I have is the number of stories I've got in progress at the same time. Two that I'm updating and ... many others!

So now, just read on, because the comments about this chapter will be at the bottom of the page.

Chapter 7: Different

Eragon supposed that they should all have paid more attention to his warning about the weather, but during the days that followed, all sensible thoughts were pushed away as far as they could get. He found it so wonderful to stay with all his friends, and he amused himself greatly. Sometimes, the thought of the people he had left on the island flashed through his mind, but it was always driven away by something else, that at the time seemed more important than what happened on a distant island.

And sometimes, usually during the evenings when they were sitting silently around the fire, the thoughts about horst and Elain returned to him. They always made him feel slightly guilty for not having asked Roran or Katrina about it, but the opportunity to do so just never seemed to come.

"I see what you mean", Arya said once, several weeks after Eragon's arrival at the house. "But you mustn't ... think too much like that. I'm talking out of experience, because I have often thought like that myself. But it does not help anyone. However, I do think we should try to find out more about it, because it doesn't ... well, it doesn't sound right, if you see what I mean."

"Oh yes, I do", Eragon answered quickly, a faint smile crossing his face.

Speaking with Arya like this always made him feel better, no matter what problem they had been discussing. In fact, their conversations usually had the same effect on him as his talks with Saphira had.

It was evening, and the two of them had left the house for a while, just to get out into the freshness of the autumn. And, though none of them mentioned it, to get an opportunity to talk in private, which they rarely had time to at all. Of course, they only had to change to the Ancient Language, and no one else would understand. But that never felt like a good idea, for some reason, and they usually ended up making some vague excuse, before quietly leaving the house.

Something soft, which had just landed on his face, made Eragon's eyes snap towards the sky. He stopped, his heart sinking. Clouds had been gathering over the house all day, and now big flakes of snow were drifting through the air, born by the sudden, cold gusts of wind that had started sweeping through the mountains.

Having lived in the Spine for his entire childhood, Eragon immediately recognized the signs of an oncoming snowstorm. It made him realize just how forgetful he had been of everything that really mattered, and he berated himself for it. What else had happened while he had been having fun?

Eragon looked sideways at Arya, and saw that she was glaring at the sky in the same frustration he himself felt.

"We should have left for Ellesméra earlier than this", Eragon said, although it was quite unnecessary to point out that which both of them already knew.

"Yes, we should", said Arya. "But this storm came unusually early, did it not? Maybe, if we leave now, we'll have time to get to Ellesméra before the winter really arrives ..."

"Yes", said Eragon. "Maybe we will. We can't leave tomorrow, though, because then it will be storming like ... well, you know about the weather here, I'm sure."

Arya threw another glance at the sky, saying:

"Yes, I certainly do."

"Let's return to the house!" Eragon suggested.

Both Roran and Katrina looked quite disappointed when Eragon and Arya explained that they must leave as soon as the storm had passed, but to Eragon's relief, neither of them questioned the decision.

"Well", Katrina said. "I knew you had to leave soon, and I am glad that you have stayed for so long. But ... you will come here once before you set out for the island, won't you?"

Eragon gave her a surprised look. He had not thought that she knew about his and Arya's plans. How could she? And who else knew?

"Yes", he said. "Yes, I am sure we will."

Katrina smiled, saying in a tone of relief:

"Good. Now, let's go to bed. It is late, and we will have at least a day to talk."

And of course, Katrina was right. The storm kept raging on for two days, during which time Eragon, Roran, Katrina, Arya and Angela spent as much time as they could inside. They talked, ate, laughed, and did everything else that they could think of doing together.

But finally, when Eragon awoke on the third morning after it had started to snow, he saw that no clouds were hiding the sun any more. He jumped from his bed at once and dressed in the clothes he used for travelling. Now, they would be off, and as much as he wished that they could have stayed longer, he was also excited.

Outside, a thin, white layer of snow was covering everything, muffling all the sounds. It was as though the world had gone to sleep, and it would not wake up until the arrival of spring.

After having eaten breakfast, Eragon and Arya took a quick farewell of the others, before mounting the dragons. Eragon looked back at the house once as Saphira crouched down, spread her wings, and then threw herself towards the sky with a roar of delight. For some reason, he was glad that Katrina had made him promise to return at least once before he and Arya departed.

Flying through the winter was not at all as pleasant as flying when it was summer, spring or autumn, a fact which Eragon and Arya quickly noticed. The wind that kept whipping their faces was bitterly cold, and soon Arya pronounced a spell to keep it away from both of them. It surprised Eragon for a few seconds, because he was perfectly capable of protecting himself. But then he remembered how often he had cast wards around Arya as well as himself, and that made him refrain from mentioning this at all.

When they came out of the mountains, the temperature rose, even though there were few trees here that could keep the cold wind away. Eragon suddenly thought back to his journey with Brom, remembering how Saphira had almost been blown away in a storm. He laughed at the memory.

- Eragon, Saphira said in a tone that contained as much warning as amusement. Are you sure you remember that right?

- Oh yes, he said. I'm quite sure I do.

Saphira growled, and he could feel her whole body vibrating under him. Her irritation made him laugh even harder.

"Eragon?" Arya asked, and he turned to look at her, realizing that a childish grin had just spread all over his face.

"Oh!" he said. "I just remembered ..."

He paused, then told Arya about the occasion, in spite of Saphiras obvious disapproval. When he had finished his explanation, Arya too laughed.

"As a matter of fact", she said, "that has happened to me and Fírnen as well. It was in the Hadarac Desert, when we were ..."

She was interrupted by Fírnen, who growled just as loudly as Saphira had done. Arya looked around, then shook her head.

"But never mind!" she said, the smile on her face suddenly fading away.

Noticing the change, Eragon asked quietly, although there was no one up here to hear him:

"What's wrong?"

"I ...", Arya began, apparently unsure what to say. "I don't know ..."

She hesitated again, and Eragon waited, not wanting to distract her. The sudden change bothered him, for during all the time he and Arya had spent in Carvahall, she had seemed so happy and light-hearted. He wondered if he had perhaps said anything inappropriate, like before, but dismissed the thought. They had just been talking, like they had done countless times during the past few weeks.

"I am just confused", Arya said finally. "Before, I would never have said a thing like that. Or at least, not in that way. I have done a lot of things lately that I would not have considered doing, only months ago. That is what confuses me."

"Well", Eragon said, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. "I am sure that would make anyone confused."

He was silent for a while, thinking over her words again. During the fifty years that had passed, he had sometimes been thinking along the same lines himself. Both of them had changed during all those years.

No, he corrected himself. Both of them were still changing. Much had happened, and more was to come. That would surely change anyone.

He expressed his thoughts to Arya, and finished by saying:

"In any case, I doubt we would be where we are now if we had not changed. Then, you would not ... allow this, would you?"

"No", said Arya, ignoring the careless way in which he had formulated the last sentence. "Nor would we have this discussion."

Eragon laughed at her comment, but thought at the same time that it was true. He would not have been able to comfort her like that fifty years ago. He would have wanted to, but he would not have been capable of finding the right words, like he had done now. He supposed that ruling a country, even if it consisted of one island only, had forced him to learn how to express himself in the right way. What else had he learnt that he had not thought of?

When they settled down for the night, the weather had got much colder again. The stars were gleaming, high above their campfire, and everything was absolutely still. Still and silent.

Eragon carefully extended his consciousness, but could feel only a few animals near them. It caused a feeling of something which he could only describe as loneliness to stir inside him.

"I think we will reach Du Weldenvarden tomorrow", Arya said after several minutes of silence. "You have not seen the forest during winter, have you?"

Eragon shook his head, saying:

"No, I haven't. Why? Is it ... different?"

Arya gazed into the flames in front of them, then replied:

"In some ways. Some people notice the differences more clearly than others. You will see."

Her words stuck in Eragon's mind, and he kept on thinking about them as he prepared himself for the flight the following morning. He wondered if her intention had been to make him curious, in the same way Angela used to do. For some reason, that thought made him both frustrated and a little anxious.

As Arya had predicted, they arrived at Du Weldenvarden late that afternoon. Saphira and Fírnen descended to the ground when they reached the first of the ancient trees, walking through the ward that prevented any dragon from flying into the forest. Then, they rose into the air again, and continued on their way.

Eragon looked down at the forest below them, and saw an endless sea of trees, all with their branches covered in glittering snow. No birds were rising from the tree tops, like they used to do. Everything looked so peaceful and untouched, that Eragon found himself unable to look at anything else for several minutes.

When he finally turned to look at Arya, he noticed that she was smiling. A few snowflakes had begun to drift, hesitantly, through the air, landing on her shoulders and in her hair as they flew on.

"So ...", Arya began, turning her eyes towards Eragon.

"So ...", Eragon repeated, knowing how she had meant to finish her question. "It was ... different, like you said. However, I do wonder why you said it like that yesterday. You sounded like Angela."

"Ah!" sad Arya. "Perhaps ... perhaps she has a point in making people curious like that."

"Yes", Eragon admitted, laughing. "Perhaps she has. She would be a good teacher."

Arya's clear laughter rose into the air as he finished the sentence.

As they flew on over the vast forest, he thought again of the conversation he and Arya had just had. And one word kept repeating itself in his mind, forcing him to consider its meaning.

Different. That was what most of Alagaësia was now, he thought. Different. And that was what both he and Arya were. Different, perhaps in more ways than he could know right now. But even so, he found it did not at all bother him like he had expected. They had only changed, and change did not necessarily have to be good or bad. They were only different.

A/n: Did you notice how many times I wrote "different" in that last paragraph? For those of you who didn't count, it was 4 times exactly. Yay! So I hope I didn't bore you too much ...


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